“Callie is a good woman! She is kind and gentle. She is a wonderful mother.”
“That may be true, but she isn’t Greek. And no matter how many cooking lessons you give her, she never will be Greek. You can’t transfuse Greek blood, Greek history, Greek passion into her.”
“Well, what does that make Manoli?” I demand.
“What do you mean?”
“Manolaki is half-Greek, and half-Callie. He will never be all Greek. His mother’s blood runs through his veins. He will love her and favor her with the same devotion and loyalty that Gus shows toward you. You cannot erase his mother.”
Mrs. Horiatis sits silently contemplating my words.
“And what about you, Xeni? Who do you love?”
I hold perfectly still, holding my breath.
“Who will give you a baby?” Mrs. Horiatis demands. “If no one is good enough for you, who will give you a baby?”
I pull my shoulders back and answer calmly, “God will give me a baby. He will give me a baby when the time is right. Soon, I think. When he sees that I deserve it.”
“Such a religious girl. You know, Xeni, God doesn’t always answer our prayers. He sometimes ignores them. Or worse, he crashes them down in front of our faces and drinks an ouzo while we cry.”
“No. God makes dreams come true when we deserve them, when we have proven ourselves good enough.”
“Xeni, don’t you know? We are never good enough.”
“But I want to try. I want to try to be good enough. And I know that I can never interfere with this family and still be a good person in God’s eyes. So I can’t do what you want, Mrs. Horiatis. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Horiatis, shakes her head at me and tsk-tsks as she picks up her Greek magazine and leaves the room. She can’t be right. God would never crash my dreams on the ground and sit back drinking ouzo. What does Mrs. Horiatis know?
God.
God. Are you listening? Normally, I wouldn’t be doing this. I know that you are all-knowing and benevolent and kind. You are capable of miracles beyond my understanding. And I know that sometimes things happen for reasons that I can’t understand. But didn’t it make you kind of mad when Mrs. Horiatis said that you don’t care about our dreams? And, by the way, do you drink ouzo? That can’t be right.
I am trying my best. I am trying my best to resist Callie and not interfere with this family. But I am only human. When I make mistakes, I try to get right back on track. Even when I make the same mistake over and over again. I know you are testing me to see if I am worthy of virgin birth, worthy of a baby. There are so many people out there who don’t seem worthy, but they have babies. How does that work? I know I can’t have Callie, but please give me a baby. Haven’t I proven myself to you yet? I can’t begin to understand your master plan, but please God, let’s just do this now. Let’s do this now or never. Make me pregnant. Show me that my efforts to remain pure of heart are worth something.
I’m not really giving you an ultimatum. I need to know if I am being crazy. If I should move on. If feasting on baby flesh is an idea that I should let go of. Holding and rocking a sweet baby, tickling their toes and squeezing their fat thighs. Kissing them from head to foot, whispering “Tha se faw, tha se faw.”
It’s now or never, God. Do it. Do it now. Do it now so I don’t lose my mind.
Pregnant at the Park
All the stress of Callie and Mrs. Horiatis, and waiting to see if God will punish me for my ultimatum, is getting to me. I take Manny to the playground so I can get back in touch with myself and my real goal of having a baby. I never intended to get caught up in all of this family drama. That’s what I always wanted to escape! I need to focus on a virgin birth instead of Callie’s oceanic eyes and warm embrace and everything will be fine. I need to show God that I am serious and of pure intentions.
I’m gently pushing Manny in a baby swing near the tall redwood trees when one of the mothers at the park asks me when I’m due. “Do what?” I say. She asks me when my baby is due and points at my stomach. It is a bit rounder and my shirts are fitting tight, but I thought that was because I’d been having a lot of strange cravings lately and eating like a cow quite honestly. I tell her I’m not sure, and she starts talking about how her second child was a surprise, too. I start to feel dizzy and the sky starts to get dark, like my vision is shutting down. I rub my eyes and focus on a little girl on the next swing. She is wearing a pink gingham dress and has pink satin ribbons tied around her ponytails. She swings higher and higher as the lady talks about her pregnancy.
“And I’m telling you, it was a complete surprise. We hadn’t planned on having another. It was a total accident. I mean, don’t get me wrong. We’re happy to have little Jeffrey of course.” She smiles and starts rubbing her temples. “He is a handful, just like his father.” She laughs to herself.
I’m still focused on the little girl swinging backward toward the trees behind her, sucking in her breath, feet tucked under her, and then pushing her legs forward with all her might, feet flexed, letting out an excited whoop. “So this accidental pregnancy . . . was it an accident because you hadn’t had sex, or you were drunk, or what? How did you do it?” I asked. The little girl flies higher with each push.
“Well, I didn’t do it. It just happened.” She lowered her voice. “And between you and me, the doctors had said I couldn’t have any more children. It’s a miracle!” Her eyes were wide as she confided in Xeni.
A miracle? Is this a sign?
“Wait. I was just wondering. How did you know? What was the first symptom you had?” The girl glides forward, and I give Manny another push on the swing.
The woman pauses and smiles. “Well, I remember I woke up one morning, and my breasts felt sore and my back was hurting. At first I thought it was PMS, but then I started to feel nauseas. When I thought about it, I realized that I was late, but I hadn’t noticed. I put two and two together and got Jeffrey!” The woman laughs and looks out toward the slide where Jeffrey is pushing another little boy out of the way so that he can slide down first.
Sore breasts, missed period, nausea. Maybe I have all of those things and just haven’t noticed. “How far along were you with Jeffrey when you began to show? Do you really think that I’m showing?”
The woman is still looking at the slide and Jeffrey and at the little boy that Jeffrey has pushed. He is lying face down in the sand at the bottom of the slide ladder. His arms and legs are spread out like a snow angel. “Jeffrey!! What have you done now!!?” She starts to run toward the little boy, but I grab her arm.
“Wait! You have to tell me. Do you think that I’m showing?”
She screams “Yes!” with such passion that I know she really means it. I look over at the girl on the swing again. She is flying really high now. So high she can touch the tops of the trees with her toes.
Could it be that God has finally blessed me with the parthenogenesis that I’ve prayed for so long and hard? I had truly fallen into despair thinking that it would never happen. Not with all the feelings I was resisting. But maybe this shows me that my efforts are being rewarded. I have hope again. This woman, the mother of Jeffrey, must have been sent to me from above. She must be a messenger from God. He must want me to know that I am not forsaken, that he has not forgotten me, and that my prayers will be answered. Are answered. Are answered? I smooth my shirt down over my stomach and feel for the baby. Just as the woman had said, I do have a bump. Until she had pointed it out to me, I thought it was a fatty tummy bulge, evidence of my midnight snacks and ice cream pops on the toilet. But maybe she’s right. It could be the miracle I’ve been praying for, couldn’t it? Otherwise, why else would God send a messenger to me in a children’s playground? I can’t remember my last period. Am I pregnant?
“Manny, it’s time to go. Say bye-bye, park!” I take him out of the swing and take him back home where Mrs. Horiatis is only too happy to play with him.
After I drop him off I go straight to the maternity shop
to look in the mirror and try on a maternity dress. Even though I have my own little bump to fill out the dress, I use their maternity pillow. I attach the thick Velcro straps around my waist and adjust the little white pillow over my belly, just so. I caress it gently and sing a little song to it, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, to save a wretch like me!” They say that babies can hear you and get to know your voice and they can even learn to recognize music. After they’re born, you can sing them the same music and it calms them right down. “I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, but now I see!” It’s never too soon to start communicating with your baby. I give the pillow a little squeeze.
I pull the maternity dress over my head and down over my swollen belly. I refuse to look in the mirror until I have it on perfectly. I adjust the ruching along the sides, smooth the fabric over my stomach, and tie the belt above my baby belly until I think it is just right.
I don’t know why, but standing there in that dress I start to feel too afraid to turn around and look in the mirror. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment. My throat starts to close up tight and my eyes get all bleary. I can’t cry. I won’t cry. If I cry, I’ll ruin the dress and I won’t be able to see myself in the mirror and it will all go away. There is no way that I am going to let that happen.
I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes on the sorry barren shirt that I’d dropped to the ground in my hurry to undress. Sniffling, I slowly turn around toward the mirror. My eyes are squeezed shut and my fists are tight little balls. I am breathing hard, and I am still holding back my tears. I take a deep breath and say a little prayer. “Dear God, I know that I should be able to look in this mirror with the full confidence and faith that you have answered my prayers. You sent me a messenger and have caused my belly to swell, yet still I hold doubts. Please give me the strength and courage to receive your blessings and to live in gratitude and not fear. Please bless me with a child to call my own and to raise in your image. Give me the strength to look in this mirror and know that all my dreams have finally come true. I now fully realize that you, Lord, are the only one that can make this miracle happen. I cannot push my will upon yours. But please, Lord, let me look in this mirror and know that you have blessed me, finally, with parthenogenesis. Amen.”
At that moment a feeling of relief flows through me. My tears dry up, and I feel that I can view my image in the mirror through God’s eyes, through love. I slowly open my eyes and I see a blessed miracle in the mirror. My belly is round and luminous under the stretchy maternity dress. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bright with realization. I truly look like a pregnant virgin. I sink to my knees and thank God because I know then that all of my dreams have come true.
When I pay for the dress at the register the salesgirl asks me if I am okay. “Oh, I’m great. I’m fantastic. I’m pregnant!” I cry out, shoving my money toward her. “That’s great,” she says, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to return the maternity pillow. It’s not for sale.” That’s fine with me because soon my own belly will be bigger than their silly little pillow. “Sorry,” I say as I rip open the Velcro straps. But then I start crying because I am so very happy.
“Oh, now, now, no need to cry. I understand—all those hormones could make anyone a little emotional or forgetful,” she says as she hands me a tissue scented with springtime. “When are you due?”
Revealing Life and Death
As a reminder to myself to stay strong and pure of thought, I wear the dress the next time I go to Callie’s house. I have to remember that God is watching, and he can take this baby away from me as quickly as he gave it. I have to resist the temptation of Callie. When I arrive she is surprised to see me looking pregnant. I tell her, “It’s a miracle!” She is so surprised that she has to put baby Manny down in his playpen. She takes both of my hands into hers and sits me down on the couch.
“Xeni, what’s going on? You’re wearing a maternity dress.”
I tell her about the lady in the park who asked me when I was due and how she hadn’t even realized that she was pregnant because it was a miracle! “She said I was showing. I don’t know how I missed it. I pray for a baby every day. But here I am. Maybe I’ve just been so distracted with everything here.” The words tumble out, and she is the first person I’m telling. The first person I’ve trusted.
“But Xeni, how did this happen? I know that you want a baby, but how did—what did you do?” Callie was silent for a moment, her body stiff. “Have you been dating someone?”
“No! Callie, of course not. Look at me! That’s what’s so wondrous about it. I didn’t do anything. God did it. He finally answered my prayers.”
I see Callie’s shoulders relax. “Have you seen a doctor or taken a pregnancy test yet? It’s really important to see a doctor as soon as you can if you are actually pregnant.” Callie is stroking my arm and her hand feels so warm. I can’t let her touch me.
“I don’t want to see a doctor.”
“But you have to. You have to make sure everything is okay.” She gives my arm a little squeeze. Her eyes are like a deep blue ocean.
“No, I can’t do this. I mean, I won’t go see a doctor. There is no way.” I pull away from her. Manny pulls up to standing in his playpen, looking at us. “I won’t make that mistake again.” I am supposed to be happy, but now I’m feeling all confused. “I can’t let anyone touch me, and I won’t let the doctor take my baby away from me again!” Callie moves closer to me on the couch and puts her arm around me. I can feel her breath on my cheek.
“What mistake, sweetie? What happened? Who took your baby away?” She scooches even closer to me, and her body fits like a puzzle piece up against mine. She is so soft. She feels like a downy pillow that I can rest on. If only I could rest. She traces the shape of a heart with her finger into my hand. “Trust me.”
I tell her about the baby that I carried in my belly. I tell her about the first and only time that I saw its heartbeat, pulsing like a beacon of light over a dark sea. How that one moment had given me faith that life was worth living. How that pulse was a true miracle. After I saw that light in my belly, I felt like I had the happiest secret growing inside of me. I was no longer alone in the world. I had a child that loved me, depended on me, clung to me for sustenance and life. A child. I had prayed and prayed for a healthy child. I refused to think that anything bad could happen—but something bad did happen. God snuffed out the light. And when the doctor looked inside of my womb, there was only darkness, and the tiny body of my dead child. It had been dead for a month. All that time when I thought that I’d carried a secret light of life, I’d really carried death inside of me. Death and despair.
Callie’s blue eyes glisten as I tell her about my secret, but she never looks away from me. Her arm feels strong around my shoulders as if she is holding me up. It is confusing to be so close to her body, to smell her scent.
Manny has been patient long enough and starts to cry behind the barrier of his playpen. His chubby face is all red with frustration. Apple cheeks. Round and firm. Good for pie. Callie gets up and walks toward him. The couch suddenly feels big and cold. I touch the cushion where she has been sitting. It is warm and delicious like melted chocolate lava cake.
“Shhh, Manny. It’s okay. Momma’s right here. It’s okay. See Xeni? Xeni loves you. She loves you so much she wants to eat you up. Come on, don’t cry.” Callie hands Manny to me, and I’m not sure that I want to hold him. His soft, sweet flesh is too much for me. “Come on, take him.” But I can’t, and so Callie sits down very close to me and puts Manny on my lap. She puts her arms around me and Manny and the three of us cuddle together like a pile of sad-eyed puppies.
Telling Callie my secret makes me wonder if I am really pregnant after all. Thinking about my dead baby makes it hard for me to believe that something good can ever happen again. That night when I go home, I take off my maternity dress and stand in front of the mirror on my closet door. I look at my body from side to side, trying to see i
f my belly bump is a baby or just plain fat. I can’t tell. So I put on my flannel nightgown, turn out the lights, and try to go to sleep. But no matter how long I wait, my eyes stay wide open in the dark room. My hands find my belly and gently stroke it, telling the baby, if it is in there, to hold on. Hold on.
The next morning I oversleep. I am exhausted. I try rubbing some of the sleep out of my eyes, but it doesn’t work. The longer I lie there the worse I feel. My stomach starts to turn, so I decide to get up and have some dry toast with chamomile tea. Doll sits there in the rocking chair, with the sunlight streaming in over her face. She looks so peaceful, absorbing the rays of light, that I decide to join her. I hold her close to my breast and I rock and quietly sing her a lullaby with my eyes closed, imagining that I can feel warmth and movement emanating from her small body. Doll’s pink body is hard compared to Manny’s, but that doesn’t make any difference to me because I love her so.
When you love someone, you accept their differences. You don’t reject them. I rock Doll in the chair and sip my tea. I tell Doll that I am finally pregnant. I tell Doll about Callie and how they both have blue eyes. I can tell that Doll likes to be held. It feels good to be held, like when Callie held me on the couch. I love Doll so much, and she isn’t even a “real” person. “Loving a real person could be okay, couldn’t it?” I ask Doll. As I rock back and forth, her eyes open and shut, her fringy black eyelashes brushing her soiled cheek. It almost looks as if she is nodding her approval.
The Prenatal Visit
I don’t know why I let Callie convince me to come to this doctor. She left Manny with his yiayia and brought me to this place. I don’t need to fill out forms and let some stranger poke at me to know that I’m pregnant. God has blessed me with a miracle. My period has stopped, I have morning sickness, and my belly is growing. Sometimes when I’m lying real still, like in the middle of the night when the moonlight glows through my window, I can feel the baby moving. I can feel it sleeping in my womb, can feel it turning, and I can almost hear its dreams. Soft, fluffy clouds, kitten meows, and lapping water. The seed of life. All curled up and sucking its thumb, it is safe inside of me and I will never let anything happen to it.
The Feasting Virgin Page 19